


Let Me See Your Mean

by coffindancer



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #JustFuckMeUp, Amputation, Bloodplay, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Snuff, i won't lie to you this is pure torture porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 14:10:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7175123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffindancer/pseuds/coffindancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal wants to make a snuff film. Will enjoys it a bit too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me See Your Mean

"Absolutely not."

"Will, if you'll give me a moment—"

"Hannibal," Will huffed, more out of bewilderment than annoyance, "we are not making a snuff film."

"It would hardly be the worst thing we've done."

He was right. Things they'd done in the heat of the moment sometimes made Will gag even now at the thought of them; and he could no longer deny the fact that he'd been conditioned to become aroused at the scent of blood, something he was very sure was intentional. It was true—at some points, they were more animal than they were human. 'Animal' couldn't even cover it all. 'Monster' was more like it. And he was fine with that—but he wanted the monster to stay in the throes of passion where it belonged, not captured and put away to watch whenever.

Hannibal must have noticed Will's hesitation at answering, so he took it as a cue to continue his morbid version of pillow talk. "We could take the proper precautions to prevent access to the films. No one would ever need to see them," he said, dropping his voice into a smooth purr, grazing sharp teeth over Will's neck, Will's shoulder, "except for you and I. Reliving kills whenever we pleased, in the comfort of our own home...preserving both moment and victim in time. When we age and can't do this anymore, they will serve as a reminder. We'll never lose ourselves, Will."

He sounded so sure, so confident, so... _right._ It made sense. He wished it didn't. "You'd think someone as obsessed with leaving no evidence as you would think twice about this," Will grunted dryly, subconsciously angling his neck to give his lover better access to his throat, where he liked it. "Few things are quite as damning as video evidence, Hannibal."

"We'll be careful," he promised. From Hannibal, it sounded so flippant, an obvious relinquishment of the sometimes overbearing caution and control he always carried. Hannibal wanted very little, but this—it was clear he wanted this.

And if Will listened to his cock, as he often did when indulging in Hannibal's admittedly twisted fantasies, he wanted it too.

When Hannibal's hand slid onto his stomach and then lower, Will's protest, a feeble one about the ethics of humiliating a victim in that way, died in his throat.

"Yes," he gasped, nodding his affirmation. "Yes. Let's do it."

Hannibal's smile had never looked darker.

**x**

The topic didn't come up again for several months, and if Will didn't know Hannibal better, he'd think he'd forgotten.

~~~~

Any doubts Will might have had were banished from his mind when Hannibal came home one day with a very expensive looking video camera and a bound, naked middle aged man in the trunk of his car.

After wordlessly dragging the man into the house and down into the basement, Will stared at him, then at Hannibal. "Who—?"

"His name is Leon, last name insignificant. A textbook pedophile; he's nothing special, but he's more than deserving of his fate." Hannibal wore no expression, nor did his voice carry any intonation. 

Will eyed the man currently lying on a cold medical table. Hannibal was right; he looked insignificant, forgettable. He was unattractive, blond hair balding and facial hair a touch too long growing like untamed weeds on his chin and upper lip. The man's lack of a wedding band or any kind of indentation that would signify wearing one told Will that he was unmarried. A textbook pedophile, indeed—a lonely, unattractive man, likely one in a position of power, sought out something he could always have control over: children.

While disgust was coiling tight in Will's head, showing itself in his expression, Hannibal retrieved the video camera, handing it to Will. It was a heavy thing, black and sleek, the lens spotless and ready to record. After inspecting it for several seconds, he handed it back to Hannibal, who regarded him with confusion.

"You record first," he said, eyes on the man before him. "Wake him up. Tell him what we're doing. I'll watch, get our tools ready."

Hannibal smiled, all monster and no human. "Very well."

He worked on restraining Leon further to ensure he would cause them no further trouble. By the time he was finished, most of his body was covered by thick straps that he would have no hope of breaking through, showing skin only in places where they needed it to be—namely, places over vital organs and arteries.

Hannibal did not wear the suit of plastic this time, opting for only an apron over his suit and tie, and Will knew, just fucking _knew_ it was because of the aesthetics. He wouldn't be caught dead on video looking anything less than flawless and put together.

He wanted to snort, maybe make a jab at it, but then Hannibal patiently turned to Will and eyed him expectantly. This was it. There was no refusing Hannibal now, no going back on this promise, not unless he wanted to take this man's place in the lion's den. Shakily, he held the camera up and pressed record after lingering over the button for several seconds. "Go."

He watched as Hannibal raised a heavy hand above his head and brought it down across the man's face with as much force as possible, resulting in a noise so sharp that it almost sounded like a snapping bone. The camera shook slightly as he jumped from the sound. 

He was not the only one that jumped; Leon jolted awake and, after finding that he could not move and did not recognize his surroundings, promptly began to scream.

What he didn't know was that they were in the soundproof basement that Hannibal had installed under their house within the first year of living there. They'd never killed in it before, having used it only to keep the sound of human beings getting chopped to pieces from being heard, but Will imagined it would hold in screams fairly well too. Knowing Hannibal, he'd likely prepared for such a thing.

His scream, like his face, was ugly; it was gravely and scratchy but also high-pitched, periodically being interrupted by sobs and hiccups. He'd succumbed to fear so quickly and that, he knew, Hannibal would not appreciate.

"You will stop screaming," Hannibal said evenly, raising his voice only to be heard over Leon's screams, "or I will cut out your vocal cords while you are still alive and strangle you with them." An empty threat—Hannibal wouldn't kill him that quickly—but it got Leon's attention anyway. The screaming didn't stop, but significantly lessened.

"I suppose that's good enough." Hannibal glanced over his shoulder at Will, black eyes staring through the camera into his own eyes before returning to the task at hand. "You will not speak unless spoken to, or I will cut out your tongue. Do you understand?"

Leon hesitated.

"Speak," Hannibal barked.

"Yes," he stammered desperately, eyes wild with fear, searching for an exit. "P-please. Who are you? Why have you—"

"I did not say you could speak further," Hannibal snarled, and Will's heart beat faster. He'd never heard Hannibal's voice get like that during a kill; he always maintained his composure, rarely showing any emotion towards the victim at all. He wondered if it was for the camera. For the show. It had to be.

A broad hand gripped Leon's throat tightly. "You know why you're here, and don't play the fool. We know what you've done, and we are going to kill you."

Though every victim of theirs was different, after Hannibal spoke those words, they all looked the same. Raw fear glazed over their eyes, twisted their mouths into terrified frowns that twitched under heavy breathing and sobs. This man was no different. Tears were already spilling over, hot and fresh onto Hannibal's closed hand.

Will decided he was done watching. "Take the camera," he said lowly, to which Hannibal wordlessly complied. He picked up a newly sharpened cleaver, glinting happily on the table beside him. Free to scream again, Leon continued his hysteric, unintelligible begging.

He stood in front of the begging man, starting down at him in silence with disdain painting his face. The cleaver swung casually at his side as he asked, "Are you right or left handed, Leon?"

The man stared up at him, fear leaving his face to make room for confusion. "What?"

"Do not make me repeat myself."

"L-left," he responded immediately. The hint of a smile spread over Will's face.

"This the hand you abuse kids with?" Will asked. Before a protest could be made, he kept talking, keeping the man on the table silent. "You know," Will said, trying to sound as gentle as possible as his fingers roamed over Leon's left arm, "my husband told you that we know what you've done. We do, but make no mistake; we are not vigilantes." Wet eyes started up at him, uncomprehending.

"We are doing this to you because we want to." And to punctuate the sentence, he brought the clever down on Leon's left hand.

There were so many sounds at once that his mind registered them only in fragments; the wet sound of splitting skin, the crunching of shattering bone, Leon's scream of agony, Hannibal's faint chuckle of approval. A heat spread through his chest, speeding up his pulse, flowing down into his lower body. The hand was not completely severed, so he brought the now red cleaver down a second time, detaching it fully. It dropped wetly to the floor. Leon's scream faded into broken sobs, likely out of shock and pain.

"You're lucky my husband likes the screamers," Will said, "because I would have loved to cut your vocal cords out if I knew you'd make this much noise."

Heart pounding, teeth clenched together, Will raked his eyes over the man's shuddering, blood sprayed body. It was a beautiful scene, and he didn't need to look at Hannibal to know that he was appreciating it as well.

Technically, it would be Hannibal's turn now, but an idea struck Will and he grinned, malicious eyes matching a malicious smile. 

"Well, maybe you can consider this part something of a punishment for your actions." Behind him, Hannibal eyed him curiously, before realization turned the expression into a smirk.

Not long after, Leon, whose eyes had been drooping, began to struggle weakly once more as belated realization flooded his brain. "Please don't," he gasped weakly. Maybe out of fear or acceptance, he didn't attempt any other coherent thoughts, just feebly strung together words and prayers. Leon, a quiet man in everyday life, and also in torture, would be a quiet man in death, it seemed.

Will's cleaver lingered above Leon's crotch, shining threateningly in the dull overhead lighting of the basement. "I hope you hate this as much as I love it."

And he swung.

With no bone to repel the bite of the metal, Leon's penis was easily severed from his body, sending a shower of blood across the table and onto Will's clothes. There was a single sharp jerk from the man strapped down, a gasp of pain, and then the blissful silence that came with shock.

Within seconds, Hannibal had come up behind him, slamming the camera onto the bloody table and snaking his arms around Will's middle. A bite on his neck made it so Leon was no longer the only one bleeding. 

Hannibal ran his fingers through Leon's blood, painting them red; and then, spinning Will around to face him, cupped his cheek, blood seeping into his facial hair. "Is it gonna be a blockbuster, love?" Will whispered, a smile mixed with joy and arousal spreading over his face.

Hannibal chuckled, kissed his lover. "Admittedly, he didn't last as long as I'd have liked him to," he murmured, "but darling, you play the part of the monster so well."

**Author's Note:**

> who, me? using a lady gaga lyric as a title? of course not.  
> i wrote this in a 2 hour grind session since i've been trying to write more and take prompts as they come. #justfuckmeup appealed the most. its short and needless to say there might be mistakes, just let me know & enjoy!


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